


Gone for Gold

by Piyo13 (orphan_account)



Series: Blood, Sweat, and Frozen Tears [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ice Skating, M/M, Olympics AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Piyo13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been training together for eleven years. </p><p>Now, the lights are trained on them, the crowd stops its cheering as the first notes of music begin to play. </p><p>Armin looks up, making eye contact with Erwin. </p><p>And then he begins to skate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone for Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catsonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsonfire/gifts).



> Hello~ So um firstly, I did a bit of research for this bUT I don't actually skate nor know anyone that does (or if I do, they should come and tell me!) SO there's going to be a shitton of technical and probably also logistical errors in this. SORRY IN ADVANCE TO ALL MY ICE-SKATING READERS (if any) AND I HOPE I DIDN'T OFFEND ANYONE/FUCK SHIT UP TOO BADLY (you should tell me if that's the case).
> 
> The only two things I won't be changing if I got them wrong (which I undoubtedly did) is that a) gay couple? I don't know if they're allowed to skate as a pair and b) [the song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0f71XfN_DLI) is not traditional ice skating music buuut..... 
> 
> Anyways! Without further ado, the story! :D

Armin is three and nervous. He takes a few tentative, wobbling steps out onto the ice. His grandfather is standing almost over him, holding carefully onto his arms. Only later will Armin recognize the irony in the moment- just as his parents lose their lives, Armin is introduced to what will be the rest of his. After several accompanied laps, Armin gets the hang of things, and inches painfully slow across the ice, one small hand pressed against the rink’s walls as he totters forward, following his grandfather’s encouragement.

He slips and falls several times, but his grandfather kisses the boo-boos away, and soon enough Armin is capable of moving across the ice with neither the wall nor his grandfather for support.

He thinks it’s wonderful and laughs delightedly, earning himself several fond glances from other guests of the rink. He doesn’t really understand why his grandfather’s face turns white when he checks his phone, nor why his grandfather suddenly announces they’re leaving in the scary tone of voice he gets when he wants something done without argument. Armin’s only heard it a few times, and his small three-year-old mind worries that he’s done something wrong.

He asks, but his grandfather just shakes his head slowly and tells Armin that no, it’s wasn’t him- and cuts off in mid-sentence, which Armin takes as a cue to ask if they can stay fifteen more minutes. His grandfather says no, but that they’ll come back some other day, if Armin wants. Armin nods enthusiastically, and sits down on the bench to let his grandfather remove his skates.

Later in the day and Armin doesn’t really understand why his parents haven’t come home yet, or why his grandfather has been making phone calls all day- he’d rather be ice skating than listening to his grandfather talk big-people-talk on the phone. He draws pictures instead, of him and his grandfather ice skating. He adds in his parents, too, cause he thinks they’d like it as well, and they should all go together next time, in his opinion.

He shows the picture to his grandfather, who promptly hangs up the phone, his voice shaking. He picks Armin up, much to the little boy’s delight, and carries him to a large armchair, where Armin settles down on his grandfather’s lap.

“Listen, Armin… your parents. They aren’t coming home, do you understand?” 

Armin furrows his little brows, confused, because no, he doesn’t really understand. “Why?” he asks, as any self-righteous toddler would.

“They’re… they died, Armin. They’re dead,” his grandfather says, and begins to cry. Armin doesn’t understand that either, but his grandfather’s crying, and so it must be something really really sad. He tries to be gentle as he pats his grandfather’s cheek, smearing some tears in the process. Struck by an idea, Armin stands as best he can and kisses his grandfather’s forehead.

“There! Now the hurt gone!” he says, and his grandfather smiles through the tears. “And then we can go ice skating again!” Armin says half-happily and half-hopefully, and his grandfather just hugs him tighter. Armin doesn’t protest, and after a while they both fall asleep in the armchair.

They go ice skating again the next week, after a big, sad party where everyone wore black.

* * *

Armin is six and shy. He half-hides behind his grandfather as they walk into the cool building. It had taken a bit of convincing, but his grandfather had finally agreed to allow him to take ice skating lessons, on the condition he wouldn't complain about waking up early to go. Armin has never agreed to anything faster in his life. Now that they’re here, though, and Armin’s fairly intimidated- he gets pushed around quite a bit at school on account of his small size, and here, too, everyone is several inches taller than him.

“Are you sure about this, Armin? There’s no backing out, you know.”

Armin nods resolutely. “I’m sure!” His grandfather smiles at him, then leads him to another room. After that, it’s pretty boring; his grandfather and a stranger talk a lot about things such as times and money and other items that don’t really interest Armin at all. Instead, he sits on the chair, feet dangling, and looks around the office. There are pictures of ice skaters hung across all the walls, of all ages, but always with medals.

Armin decides right then that he wants a medal just like them. Their costumes also look cool, though. Suddenly, he hears his name called, and he looks over to his grandfather, who motions towards the stranger.

“So, Armin,” he begins, and Armin doesn’t know how he feels about a stranger calling him by name. A tag on his desk reads Mr. Pixis, though, so Armin supposes that if he can know Mr. Pixis’ name, then Mr. Pixis is allowed to know his. “We have a beginner’s class in half an hour, would you like to give it a try then before you make up your mind for sure?”

“I already _have_ made up my mind,” Armin says, wishing that adults would stop second-guessing his decisions. But, just to be polite, he adds on, “but I’d like to try the class anyways.” Mr. Pixis chuckles and nods.

“If you’ll come with me, I can get you set up with some rental skates for now, and then you can buy your own later,” he says, standing up and extending a hand toward Armin. Armin looks quickly to his grandfather, who nods, and then Armin takes Mr. Pixis’ hand. They go to a large room full of shelves upon shelves of skates, and after a few minutes, find a pair that fit Armin almost perfectly. Then they walk over to the rink, the temperature dropping even more, and find a bench to sit on while Mr. Pixis teaches Armin how to properly lace up skates.

There’s still ten minutes until the class starts, but other students are trickling into the rink now, and Armin is once again nervous. His grandfather comes over and sits down next to him, and they talk for a bit, his grandfather slowly working Armin back into a state of excited joy about his ice skating lessons. An adult walks in, then, and calls out to the assortment of waiting people near the rink.

“Hello, everyone! I’m Rico Brzenska, but you can just call me Rico. I’m in charge of the beginner’s classes here at Maria Ice- anyone in the beginners’ class, if you’ll come follow me onto the rink, and we can get started!”  

Armin’s grandfather smiles at him, gently nudging him over and onto the ice. Armin still wobbles a bit, but he does his best to follow Rico out to the middle, discovering in the process that he’s better than a lot of the bigger kids- this makes him feel slightly better and a bit less nervous.

The class starts with them going over proper skating technique, and Armin marvels at the way simply shifting his weight can make his skating that much smoother. He loves it. At the end of class, though, Rico instructs everyone to pair up, and Armin remains frozen to the ice. He’s never good at this- even in school, he only has two other friends, and they insist on forming a trio for everything, even partner activities.

He looks around hesitantly as all the other kids pair up, until there’s only one more standing alone. He looks a lot bigger than Armin, but his hair is the same color. Armin takes a breath and skates over.

“Hi,” he says, focused on his skates rather than the boy across from him. “I’m Armin.”

“I’m Erwin,” the other boy says, and looks like he’s about to add something, when Rico interrupts with instructions, explaining clearly how they should go about trying to skate backwards. Once she’s done, Erwin extends his hands, and Armin takes them, looking up at Erwin for the first time. Even their eye color is similar.

Erwin smiles, Armin returns it, and they begin to skate together in what would become the first of many times.

* * *

Armin is twelve and has too much energy. He skates rapidly around the near-empty rink- it’s late in the afternoon, about five minutes ‘til closing, and he and Erwin are the only two still left on the ice. "C'mon, do you wanna try a lift?" He’s greeted by a beat of silence.

"I'm scared to. What if I drop you?"

Armin gapes.  _Erwin_  is scared? Erwin, already in high school and standing almost six feet to Armin’s mere five, is scared of a lift? Armin skates over, swishing to a stop right in front of Erwin, who looks away, not meeting his eyes. "Erwin, I trust you. And I know that you can do this." 

"And what if I can't?" 

"You can. You’ve picked me up a hundred times when we’re not in the rink!" That much is true- the two, having become close friends, have hung out many times in the past, and Erwin has practiced picking Armin up before- just in case they ever want to do it on ice. That’s their official justification at least, Armin personally just really like the feel of being up higher than Erwin for once. And his hands are always warm and steady as well, and Armin may or may not find that comforting, but that’s neither here nor there.

“But look at what happened to Levi and Hange!” Erwin says, naming off two of their classmates. Hange- who for some inexplicable reason always told everyone else to refer to him by his last name- the taller boy, had tried to lift Levi; the whole affair had ended disastrously, with the two of them heaped one atop the other on the ice, and, according to Hange, covered in bruises literally from head to toe.

“Levi probably weighs more than Hange though, he’s like, solid muscle from karate or something,” Armin pouts. “You, on the other hand, almost double my weight. And height,” he adds on, sticking his tongue out at Erwin, who finally chuckles.

"I don’t want to hurt you, though,” he says, and Armin takes his hands and leads him around the rink, skating backwards, a repetition of what they’d done the first time they met.

“I mean... just once, maybe?” Armin asks, hopefully. “We can do it from a standstill and everything!” Erwin sighs.

“Well… alright, I guess.” Armin whoops loudly in the mostly empty arena, doing a quick celebratory lap before coming back and standing in front of Erwin, feeling ridiculously small as he cranes his neck to see Erwin’s face. Erwin bends his knees a little, and Armin raises his arms to give Erwin access to his waist. There’s a moment’s pause, and Erwin mumbles a ‘ready?’ under his breath, Armin nodding excitedly. Then the familiar hitch, and Armin’s in the air, his muscles straining to hold his body straight like he’s seen the ice skaters on TV do.

“Erwin you should move!” Armin calls, caught in his excitement, and is surprised when Erwin shifts forward slightly.

“Nope,” Erwin calls hastily, lowering Armin down quickly. As soon as his skates are back on the ice, Erwin lets him go, and Armin does a quick spin to show his excitement. “Sorry, I would’ve dropped you…”

“No, that’s fine!” Armin hurries to say. “That was great!”

“The hell are you saying that’s the worst fucking form I’ve ever fucking seen,” a voice from the side says, causing both of them to jump. Erwin and Armin turn to see Levi, skates thrown over his shoulder, lounging against the sides of the rink.  “Seriously, what were you even trying to go for. Me and _Hange’s_ lift was better, and that’s saying something.”

“And what would you suggest?” Erwin says, his voice eternally steady and tinged with amusement where Armin is almost scared.

“It looked like some demented form of a platter. Why don’t you try the actual thing?” Levi drawls, just as Hange bangs open the door and wanders in.

“Did I hear platter, Levi? You wanna try again?”

“Not a fucking chance, shitty glasses,” he says, and Hange laughs, skates thrown over his shoulder as well.

“So Erwin and Armin are trying it, then?” he asks, and Levi nods. “Sweet,” Hange adds, and settles down next to Levi to watch. Armin gulps and looks towards Erwin, who now has a determined set to his features. They both know the theory, of course- and Armin, at least, has seen countless videos and diagrams.

“Uh…” he says.

“Do you want to try one?” Erwin asks, his eyes meeting Armin’s. Shyly, Armin nods.

“But only if you want to, I’m sorry for earlier…”

Erwin smiles. “It’s fine. Okay, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Armin replies, beginning to skate backward and building up speed as Erwin nears, steadying his feet as Erwin dips and places his hands on Armin’s hips, and Armin steadies himself by holding on to Erwin’s forearms and suddenly he’s back in the air and moving, and he throws his arms wide with a whoop of joy. He grabs Erwin’s arms again as he feels his height sink, and lands perfectly, still skating backwards, smiling so broadly at Erwin he feels his cheeks might split in two- but hey, it’s _fun_ , what can he do?

“What was that,” says another voice, tearing Armin out of his reverie. He looks up, smile dropping off his face as he seems Mr. Shardis, the more advanced-level coach and person in charge of closing up the rink, glaring at them with arms crossed.

“We were, uh…”

“You know,” Shardis interrupts. “I don’t say this often, but that actually wasn’t half bad. I’ll talk to Nanaba about getting you two some official pair training. Now get your _maggoty asses_ off the ice, I’m supposed to be closing up, here!”

Erwin and Armin skate off, Armin smiling giddily as he looks to Erwin. “Erwin! Pair skating classes!” he exclaims, and for a moment Armin’s worried because Erwin doesn’t seem nearly as excited as him, but Armin won’t skate without Erwin and so if Erwin doesn’t like it-

Then Erwin looks up to Armin and smiles, excitement in his blue eyes. “Oh, man, wait until I tell my parents…” he says, and both of them laugh happily, looking forward to hearing from Nanaba (and intimidating as Shadis is, he’s true to his word and Nanaba phones both their families a week later, telling them that Erwin and Armin are eligible for new classes; same rate, different time. They’ll miss Levi and Hange, of course, but those two continue on single skating, content as they are, and they still see each other frequently outside the rink anyways).

* * *

Armin is sixteen and in love.  The object of his love is sitting next to him, all six feet two inches of nineteen-year-old toned blond. Armin pretends to stare out at the passing forest as Erwin drives him to his house, but he’s drawn back constantly to the sharp profile, wishing he had the courage to say something but knowing he doesn’t. It’s a twenty minute drive from the rink to home, but Erwin makes it for him twice a day- pick up and drop off- because Armin doesn’t have a car. Or a license.

The black Camaro pulls smoothly into the driveway, and Armin invites Erwin in. It’s just a formality, of course- Erwin and his parents don’t really get along, and he spends more time over at Armin’s than strictly necessary, even now that he’s begun college at the local university.

“Cookies and milk?” Armin calls, making a beeline for the kitchen the moment he enters.

“Only if there’s coffee in the milk!” Erwin answers, following behind a bit slower. They eat and drink, Armin snatching a few more Oreos to take up with him to his bedroom, where he collapses on the bed. Erwin takes the chair at Armin desk, sitting in it backwards with his arms propped up on the edge. Armin tries to make sure his gaze doesn’t linger too long, looking instead around the rest of his room, with its shelves upon shelves of books and skating trophies. Erwin insists Armin takes them all home, saying that there’s enough debauchery at his mansion already, and at his dorm he doesn’t have enough room. Armin secretly thinks it’s because Erwin’s parents don’t really approve of ice skating as a pastime for their son, but he never asks.

“…hey, Armin,” Erwin asks, his deep voice stirring Armin’s chest, even though it’s _just a name, Armin, get yourself together already._

“Yeah?” he answers instead, looking to Erwin and seeing him contemplate the trophy shelves as well.

“Have you ever thought about the Olympics?”

Armin sits bolt upright, now. Has he-? Only every day since they won a statewide competition a few months ago, but he hasn’t wanted to bring it up because now Erwin’s a political science major already and doing sophomore-level work despite his nominal freshman status, and would Erwin even _want_ to keep skating, time-consuming as it is? “No… should I?”

“Well,” Erwin says, dragging his eyes away from the trophies and looking straight at Armin. “I was thinking we could, if we wanted to. The next Olympics are in three years…”

Armin tries really, really hard to keep his excitement to himself, but he feels like he’s going to explode. “But… don’t we need a coach and stuff?”

At this Erwin smiles grimly. “Ah, well, you know how Levi tore his ACL?” Armin nods; Levi’d been out skiing and taken a fall, and now, because of several complications involved, it seems as though he’ll never be able to skate again. Armin suppresses a shudder at the thought of a life without skating. “Well, he still knows a lot _about_ skating. And if he still wants to be involved…” Erwin trails off, and Armin picks up the thread.

“You think he’d coach for us? Can he even do that?”

“Well, he _is_ eighteen…”

Armin stand up abruptly. “Up, up, come on, let’s go!” he says, making shooing motions at Erwin, who appears confused but nonetheless complies.

“Where are we going, exactly?” he asks as he’s ushered out the door my an impatient Armin.

“To see Levi, of course! You know where his house is, right?”

“Oh,” Erwin says, seeming pleasantly surprised. Then he smiles. “I do, actually. Shall we?” They get back into his car, and Armin bounces the entire drive to Levi’s house, scenarios of Olympic glory playing repeatedly over in his mind. Once they arrive at Levi’s house- or, well, Levi’s parents’ house, since Levi is actually rooming with Erwin at the university- they park on the curb, driveway taken up by an ill-parked Camry which, upon closer inspection (and notice of the thousands of papers strewn haphazardly in the back), reveals itself to be Hange’s.

They knock on the door, and are greeted by Levi’s parents, who smile and gesture them inside, letting Erwin take the lead and bring them to Levi’s room. Once inside, Armin is immediately tackled by an excitable Hange. She’s recently transitioned, and the frilly lace on the shoulder of her dress tickles Armin’s nose, making him sneeze.

“So are you two fuckers going to tell me why you’re here?” Levi asks the second Hange’s done with greetings.

“Well, we had a proposition for you,” Erwin says, smiling. Levi narrows his eyes, glancing between Armin and Erwin. Hange has plopped down on the edge of Levi’s bed, bouncing up and down. “We’d like to aim for the Olympics,” Erwin says finally, wrapping an arm around Armin’s shoulder, causing Armin to blush. He looks up at Hange just in time to see her eyes widen as she looks between him and Erwin, and Armin frantically tries to shake his head as Hange waggles her eyebrows at him. “And we’d like you to be our coach.” That, thankfully, redirects Hange’s attention, and now she’s looking at Erwin in disbelief, which is mirrored on Levi’s face.

“Alright, I’ll allow it!” Hange says, and opens her mouth to say more, but Levi cuts across her.

“Who said anything about you allowing anything, shitty glasses?”

Hange waves him off. “I’ll allow it, but only under one condition!”

Both Erwin and Armin raise their eyebrows at her, waiting. She grins.

“You have to let me be your costume designer!” There’s another moment of stunned silence. Erwin exchanges a glance with Armin, arm still wrapped around his shoulder.

“Alright, then,” Armin says, and Erwin picks up after him.

“It’s on, then?”

Levi, with his usual long-suffering sigh, finally nods slowly. “I guess so,” he says, and Hange whoops, jumping off the ground in delight. Then Levi proceeds to kick them all (metaphorically, his leg still being constrained due to his injury) out of his room, saying that, as coach, he needs all the beauty sleep he can get. Armin thinks, though, that he can see a latent excitement stirring in Levi’s usually passive face, and he’s proved right when the next morning he’s received an email detailing a new workout regimen as dietary constraints.

Soon enough, with Levi having thrown himself fully into position as makeshift coach, they learn techniques and official rules and the pair is signed up for competition after competition. The trophy shelves in Armin’s room are shortly overflowing and so he clears out all the old ones (they’re mostly just ‘congratulations, you participated!’ anyways) and relegates them to a box in the basement. Newer, shinier ones bearing more weight are added to his shelf every time he and Erwin skate, and, coupled with Hange’s rather extraordinary knack for costuming, the duo soon make a name for themselves.

* * *

Armin is nineteen and more nervous than he's ever been. They drew last lot, and in between keeping their muscles warm, Levi has quizzed them repeatedly on their program, which does nothing to alleviate Armin's nerves in the slightest. He glances anxiously at the rink as the Zamboni slips past, his eyes focusing quickly on Erwin before returning to Levi, who's talking, but the words seem to dodge Armin’s ears, flowing past in a babble on unintelligible noise. He looks back to the rink just as the Zamboni rumbles out, job done, and Armin stands up abruptly, excusing himself to Levi before making his way to the little door that separates him from the ice. 

The ice is gloriously smooth, and it calms him just to set his skates on there, beginning to glide forward without thinking. He takes a lap, feeling a bit of his nervousness melt away- only a bit, though, because the crowd is huge and loud and, despite the open nature of the rink, Armin feels caged. Then he hears the swish of blades on ice behind him, and suddenly Erwin is skating backwards, facing Armin, pulling him along by a hand Armin hadn’t noticed he’d grabbed.  Armin smiles, meeting Erwin’s eyes.

"You ready?" Armin asks, his stomach clenching at the words.  _It's actually happening._

“Truthfully? No,” Erwin says, a broad smile revealing his perfect teeth, and Armin forces himself to not stare at his lips because his heart is already beating fast enough as it is. “But,” Erwin continues, pausing meditatively as they make the turn at the far end of the rink, “is anyone ever _really_ prepared for this?” His hand, the only not holding Armin’s, gestures broadly towards the arena, the five interlocked rings in the background glowing with lights during the intermission.

Armin makes a face. “The other teams seemed like they were,” he says. Erwin chuckles, then pulls Armin in and takes his waist, searching Armin’s face for approval, which Armin replies to in mere milliseconds, and Erwin’s strong hands tighten just before Armin is flying. It’s a simple lift, but Armin knows Erwin make it look deceptively easy as they spin once before Erwin lowers him back down, those in the crowd who were paying attention emitting a cheer.

“See?” Erwin says, changing direction mid-stroke so that he and Armin are now skating parallel. “The crowd thinks we’re ready, too.”

Armin smiles at him nervously and opens his mouth to add something, but they’ve completed a lap and Levi’s sharp voice cuts across them.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erwin replies smoothly, with a wink in Armin’s direction as the two pull up to the side.

“That fucking lift. I fucking told you two not to waste all your energy early, especially since we’re the last fucking program-”

“Aw, Levi, loosen up a bit!” Hange says, sidling up and elbowing the coach in the ribs. “Anyways, you two come closer I noticed a couple of things with your costumes-” Armin’s closest, and Erwin gently pushes him over to Hange’s waiting hands. Gingerly, she adjusts the shimmering drape of blue, testing a few of the larger rhinestones with a nail. “Alright, you’re good, Erwin, get your gorgeous ass over here.”

“I didn’t know the quality of my ass was a factor in costuming,” Erwin says lightly, eyes twinkling in amusement as he nonetheless glides effortlessly over to where Hange is waiting. She begins to fiddle with his costume as well, and Armin tunes out Levi- he’s muttering something about piss again, and Armin frankly doesn’t want to know- in favor of appreciating the fantastic work Hange’s done. Erwin’s color is green, the same shade as the forest behind his house. Like Armin’s, his costume also fades to black near the waist, the skintight black fabric clinging to Erwin’s well-muscled legs in a way Armin secretly thinks should be illegal. Unlike Armin’s, though, the cascade of bejeweled green isn’t feathered. Well, technically, Armin doesn’t know if the patterns of blue on his back are actually supposed to represent feathers, but that was his first impression and Hange has, so far, remained resolutely silent as to the inspiration for her designs.

“Good!” she announces suddenly, leaning back, then beckons Erwin in, whispering something in his ear to which he nods slowly. Armin quirks an eyebrow as Erwin makes eye contact, but Erwin shrugs. Armin huffs air, but sets his curiosity aside in favor of concentrating on Levi’s last words of encouragement. When Erwin’s hand finds his, he squeezes slightly, comforted by the warmth.

“-and lastly,” Levi says, glaring at them with his usual piercing lack of emotion, “you go kick some ass. Understood, you fuckers?”

Both Erwin and Armin smile, taking Levi’s praise for what it is.

“Good luck!” Hange says, practically jumping with excitement, and with one last shared look, the two skaters push off the wall as Levi sends the cue to dim the lights. They take one lap as their names are announced, waving to the cheering- and partially booing; they’re a prime example of ‘gays corrupting everything’ or something of the sort, after all- crowd. Then they make their way to the center of the rink as the lights dim further and only the rink itself remains lit.

“Ready?” Erwin whispers as they take up their starting positions, heads bowed and backs facing each other.

“As I’ll ever be,” Armin replies, bringing up a blue-sleeved hand to hide his face from the crowd. His nerves have, strangely, faded mostly away as the stadium hushes. _It’s just another costume run,_ he thinks mildly to himself, the though almost making him want to grin. He doesn’t, though, because the first notes of their song start to play right at that moment.

They hold still until the beat picks up, at which point they begin to skate away from each other, curving to both of their rights after a few seconds, moving in a tightening spiral that’s always reminded Armin of the Milky Way.  They slip, then, into habit, and Armin loses himself in the motions- they skate in synchrony and mirrored, jumping and landing with the same breath, coming together and pulling apart in tandem with the pulsing beat of the music as it echoes around the rink, swirling and invading Armin’s mind, rendering it blank of everything except the beat and the ice and Erwin, his face serious as he comes in for a lift, picking Armin off the ice and launching him into the air with a twist, and Armin lands with a backwards twirl, his hands reaching out immediately for Erwin’s as they drop immediately into a death spiral, before coming out of it and into mirrored double axels, skating backwards until they meet up again.

The rest of their program passes equally quickly, in a blur of glittering green and flashing skates, until the lyrics repeat one last time and they spin across the ice, spiraling back inwards to the center, coming to rest, facing each other, with their right hands pressed together. Then the final note dies off, and suddenly Erwin’s hands are on either side of Armin’s face, and oh no, he knows they hadn’t choreographed this, and what is going to-

Armin’s thoughts stop in their tracks as Erwin’s lips meet his, closed despite his heavy breathing, and there’s a resounding silence in the space around him and in his own mind as, collectively, the events are processed.

Then Erwin breaks away, muttering a soft ‘sorry’ under his breath, and the crowd bursts wildly into cheer, and Armin can do nothing more than reach up to cup Erwin’s jaw in the palm of his hand.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he says, with far more eloquence than his thoughts feel right now, because Erwin kissed him, and now Erwin’s smiling at him, looking as happy as Armin feels, and Armin grins broadly back before suddenly remembering they have yet to bow, and so bow they do, both of them smiling like idiots the entire time, and they skate off to where Levi and Hange are waiting, only to be greeted with a wolf-whistle and a grumbled ‘took you shits long enough’.

Erwin and Armin hold hands while the judges deliberate, and hold hands tighter as their scores are announced, Armin leaping to his feet with a loud ‘oh my God!’ once he realizes that, well, they’re _first_. Hange follow suit, and the two hug each other, Hange with special care for Armin’s costume as she shouts that it’s by a whole four tenths of a point and _they’ve won_ _they’ve won gold_ and Armin can’t believe it, as he bounces back to Erwin, not mindful in the least of his skates, and, daringly, places another kiss on Erwin’s lips.

“We’ve won, we’ve won, _we’ve won gold, Erwin!_ I can’t-! This is-!” his words fail him completely, and Erwin stands and envelopes him in a large, warm hug, but the incredulity follows Armin to the winner’s podium as they’re handed flowers and told to wait as their flag and anthem are hung and played, and then comes the medals- a large, golden disk that hangs heavy against Armin’s chest, but Armin thinks that the best gold is the exact shade of Erwin’s hair as he looks up, only to find Erwin’s eyes meeting his own. They exchange a glance, before Erwin bends down and kisses Armin fully, bringing up flowers to cover their faces in a false, so incredibly false show of modesty.

Their kiss is on the front page of every newspaper the next morning, but with the weight of Erwin’s hand in his as they wander the Olympic Village in search of breakfast, Armin can’t really bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~oh god none of this is proofread i just wanted to get this posted i am SO SORRY~~  
>  Also in case anyone was curious [this](http://figureskating.about.com/od/glossaryletterp/g/platterlift.htm) is a platter lift. 
> 
> Anyways basically ignore the rest of this unless you are Squid at which point continue to read the rest of this because basically this entire thing is an ode to how fabulous you are and I'm? So fucking glad we met? And started talking? And became friends? And basically I would like to pledge my undying love to you and blah blah blah I've probably told you this a thousand times but here it is _with fic included_ so now it's like. Official and shit. Yeah. ilu  <3 ~~Why yes i am in fact an embarrassing piece of shit thanks for asking.~~


End file.
